A Strange Kind of Love
by Chrisilove
Summary: This is a series of Myrniver one-shots I'm creating because the combination is so much fun! And seriously, if you don't like the romantic combo (Myrnin/Oliver) then obviously don't read this. Don't go leaving a rude review.
1. The Insanities of Passion

**Okay, so I know this is a really unusual pairing, but I got inspired. I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, I understand. This just may not be your cup of tea. :)**

Scowling again, Oliver rounded the corner. There crouched the Day house, dark and silent with slumber. Just to the side opened the alleyway that he was headed for. Stalking unhappily toward it, he turned up the collar of his long, black, leather coat. Obviously, he could feel neither heat nor cold due to his being a vampire, but he felt more at ease with the cover over his shoulders. Quickly, he scurried into the passageway. He unlocked the door with precision and swept inside to quickly relock it behind him lest Myrnin be in one of his states. Though the apartment was completely devoid of light, Oliver easily caught sight of the vampire he was to make his delivery to. Myrnin, black eyes glinting despite the absence of light, was huddled in a tiny space between an armchair and the wall. All around him was scattered the usual disarray: broken beakers and tubes, ancient texts, overturned furniture. A chill ran through Oliver's spine. Coming here always roused thoughts of Oliver himself becoming like this: a creature of the wild, without morals or thoughts. A purely instinctual being. "It's rather _not _dignifying for a grown man to lurk in the darkness so, you old fool," Oliver hissed, flicking the light switch. Myrnin hardly seemed to notice the sudden brightness. His eyes were trained solely on Oliver, who had to admit, it was a bit unnerving the way he stared without anything in his eyes. None of the usual distaste at the sight of Oliver swirled in the depths of those dark orbs.

"Dignity isn't something I concern myself with, Oliver, you should know that…" Myrnin replied, though his mind appeared to be somewhere else—obviously. "But I am rather hungry…perhaps…just a taste…" Oliver rolled his eyes.

"I'm not human. You'd glean no usefulness out of me."

"Oh, it is not blood I want."

That made Oliver frown. What else was there? Suddenly feeling as if he might be in danger of a brawl with the loon,—which he wouldn't mind except that Amelie would have his head—Oliver reached into his pocket. The crisp paper crackled in his hand as he drew it out; the note seemed to draw Myrnin's attention, for his dark eyes flitted to them for a moment. "I'll leave this on the table. It's a message from Amelie. Read it when you're lucid again." With that, Oliver turned abruptly on his heel to start for the door. But then came the telltale sound: Myrnin's ever so slight footfall; there he stood, eyes gleaming, curly hair in a mess on his head; a tight smile ruined his features—though Oliver had never thought much of them in the first place. "Out of my way, fool. I've got no time for your games."

Myrnin cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "Oh, but I'm so lonely. Won't you play with me, Oliver?"

Eyes narrowed, Oliver growled, "Move."

"Please?"

_"Move!"_

A short silence ensued. Myrnin's face evolved from puckered and begging to dark and triumphant. "You want me to move? Okay." Before Oliver could even register anything, Myrnin barreled into him, shoving him to the floor. Sitting atop a stunned Oliver, Myrnin purred with delight. "I moved! Now you play with me!"

"No, I won't! Get off, you—what are you doing?" Oliver's voice jumped an octave higher when Myrnin's fingers slid to the hem of Oliver's shirt. Voice caught in his throat, Oliver watched in horror as the other vampire's slender fingers coaxed the hem of his shirt up over his abdomen. Myrnin lowered his face until it was less than an inch from Oliver's.

"I'm playing with you, Oliver. What else?" the lunatic answered honestly.

Fighting to free his voice from its cage in his larynx, Oliver grabbed frantically at Myrnin's hands, but Myrnin firmly locked them above Oliver's head with one of his own. "S-Stop, Myrnin, this isn't funny," Oliver stammered, his voice quivering—though not from fear or disgust. No, Oliver hated himself for it, but this was the first time anyone had touched his bare skin in these places since… He couldn't remember the last time. This was bad. Myrnin's lips had begun caressing Oliver's collarbone, sending searing fire across where their skin met.

"Wasn't meant to be funny," Myrnin breathed between kisses.

Oliver's mind had gone numb; he'd ceased fighting and now lay limp and half-naked beneath Myrnin. His upper body now fully exposed, Oliver's pride and conscious mind battled their way through the mist that had trapped them at the back of his brain. "I'm not so desperate for companionship that I'll lie with a man, Myrnin. Now get off of me."

The raving lunatic sat up, eyes still on Oliver, and gazed at him thoughtfully. "Mm…don't think so," he chirped then ducked right back down to run his tongue along Oliver's abs. Growling in frustration, Oliver started to push Myrnin away.

But Myrnin kissed him.

He pressed a forceful, demanding kiss onto Oliver's lips, making the latter squawk in surprise and irritation. Yet as Oliver fought, Myrnin continued to kiss him. And even though Oliver's sane mind was screaming at him to struggle, his body commandeered. Slowly, Oliver began to sink back onto the ground; he looped his arms around Myrnin's neck whose lips felt unbelievably soft; somehow, his fingers found their way to the buttons of Myrnin's shirt.

Soon they were both gone: both lost in desire but only one fully aware.

O.o.O

The intoxicating, sweet scent of blood woke Oliver. He was aware of an aching that infected his whole body, a soft mattress and pillow beneath him, and the sound of someone slurping something out of a straw. Eyelids glued together with exhaustion, Oliver peered around to find himself in Myrnin's minuscule bedroom. There sat the proud assaulter, legs crossed, in his red, wingtip chair. It seemed his insanity had passed—at least for now. He was reading a newspaper while he sipped hungrily from a glass of red liquid, making Oliver lick his lips.

Just then, Myrnin noticed Oliver had awakened. "Well. Quite the interesting predicament we find ourselves in, no?"

Never in his life had Oliver wanted to wring someone's throat more. "I'll kill you, you bastard."

"Oh, by all means." Myrnin threw his arms out wide in invitation. "I don't mean to put up any sort of resistance."

Had he been human, Oliver's face would've turned beet red. Instead, he cast his gaze downward and grumbled, "I didn't mean now."

Myrnin blinked. "Really? Why not?"

Sending all the deadly thoughts one has in a single glare seems an impossible feat, but Oliver accomplished it with flying colors as he glowered with malice at Myrnin. "Because, you bastard, my ass hurts."

**Hey, hey! :D Reviews are awesome! *hint hint* ;)**


	2. Fantasies Born of Hunger

"Ah, yes. Oliver, you're looking quite smashing this morning," Myrnin sighed irately, hardly giving Oliver a glance as he strode into the dim room. Myrnin sat in his study, reading a book he'd favored throughout his long life. Oliver had interrupted his cozy night—for what reason he knew not and doubted he'd feel particularly forgiving even after knowing. "What is it? Come to simply annoy the stew out of me?"

"Myr…nin…" Oliver's voice lacked its typical, criticizing tone, drawing Myrnin's gaze toward him. What he saw was rather unnerving. Oliver's dark eyes looked at Myrnin sadly instead of with their conventional loathing; his face had lost the rock-hard determination. He looked—broken.

"Oliver, what's happened to you?" Myrnin rushed to his feet, the book forgotten. He placed his hands on Oliver's shoulders. "What's wrong?" Panic rising in his chest, Myrnin shook the other vampire as if to wake him from his stupor.

But Oliver's blank eyes only focused on Myrnin. Then without the slightest bit of warning, Oliver pounced onto Myrnin and sunk his fangs into Myrnin's flesh. They fell to the ground with a loud thump. In the back of his mind, Myrnin chuckled, _and _I_ am supposed to be the insane one._ Oliver crushed Myrnin's arms to his side when he tried to fight back. "Stop this, Oliver!" Myrnin shouted. Suddenly, Oliver pulled away but not for long. He grasped Myrnin's arms on either side of his head and leaned in close to Myrnin's face. The breaths from Oliver's mouth were labored and heavy. Why was he breathing in the first place, let alone panting? Then Myrnin realized something. That blank look in Oliver's eyes—he was hungry. For blood, yes, but not just that. Myrnin could hardly believe it as the thought rocketed into his mind. Oliver was feeling lust. Powerful, animal, instinctual lust. "Um…" Myrnin was beginning to become slightly frightened. Oliver's ironclad grip could not be moved, and his eyes had moved to Myrnin's lips. "Now, wait a minute, Oliver. You don't want to something that you'll regret—"

Oliver kissed him. Forcefully, he planted his lips on top of Myrnin's, who accidentally gasped in surprise—a huge mistake. It left his lips open enough for Oliver to wiggle his tongue through. Myrnin bit him, but Oliver was relentless. He kept his lips over Myrnin's for so long that Myrnin's awareness began slipping. He knew this was dangerous, but it somehow felt…_good_.

_What am I thinking!? Dammit, what am I going to do? I can't get him off! If I don't make him…stop…I'll… Oh, what the hell?_ Myrnin returned Oliver's enthusiasm. Over the centuries, gender had become a rather slurred line in Myrnin's view, though he did still prefer women. And it had been far too long since Myrnin had let himself have fun.

The feel of Oliver loosening Myrnin's belt brought him out of his thoughts. Oliver's hold on him had slackened a bit; Myrnin was now able to shove Oliver over so that he straddled him. "You asked for it," he chuckled. Oliver's face had turned yearning. _Begging's more like it._ Myrnin ripped the buttons of Oliver's shirt apart so that he could run his palms across the washboard that was Oliver's stomach. "You really are in shape. I've always hated that about you. I will never get my abs to look like that." Oliver rolled his black eyes. "Ah! There's some of the old Oliver—" He was cut off when the man beneath him pulled himself up to grab Myrnin's shirt. Lifting it slowly, Oliver trailed a soft path of kisses up to Myrnin's chest. Even Myrnin couldn't control his breathing now; it was erratic and thick. Lifting his top over his head, Myrnin growled softly and pushed Oliver back to the floor. With a dark, sweet purr in his tone, Myrnin whispered into Oliver's ear, "You're going to want to kill me when I'm done with you, but it'll only be because you're going to hate yourself for enjoying this so much."

O.o.O

Oliver's eyes flew wide open. Frantically, he checked his clothes—which were thankfully still there. He was in his own bed, safe and alone. Nervously running his fingers through his hair, Oliver sighed inwardly with relief. _Just a dream. But dear God, what a dream!_

Oliver slid his feet to the floor; they brushed something soft and fuzzy. Frowning downward, Oliver's world stopped. If his blood or heart had pumped, they would've turned to ice.

At his feet—with an envelope scrolled with a large, decorative _M_, draped on top of them—sat a pair of obnoxiously ridiculous vampire-bunny slippers.


	3. Sweet Dreams

**Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! It really means a lot! :) Seriously. You have no idea. Well, maybe you do, but…whatever, haha! I'll start rambling if I don't stop now. Anyway, please enjoy this new chapter! I know of one more that I will definitely be adding, but after that I'm not sure what's next. Again, thanks to everybody who's reading and reviewing!**

Staring wide-eyed at the large screen before him which flickered every moment with a new image, Myrnin barely heard the door to his humble abode open and close. A cold, bored voice interrupted his trance. "Are you really watching TV, Myrnin?" Without turning to look at Oliver, Myrnin replied,

"I'd think it was quite obvious that yes, I am indeed watching television. It's an incredible device. If I were human, I could just imagine my brain cells dying. Even so, it's still quite entrapping. Eve introduced me to these hysterical creations called 'soap operas.' The theatricality put into these—it's so amusing!"

Oliver sighed exasperatedly. "Shouldn't you be conducting experiments or something?"

Now Myrnin did turn to glare at Oliver. "On what exactly? For what purpose, please tell me? When I've nothing interesting to research, I'm reduced to reading from my library. But wait—_I've already completed it!_"

"Whatever!" Myrnin noticed that Oliver's dark eyes were shifting around Myrnin's belongings with a nervous, searching glint.

"What are you looking for?"

A defensive curtain fell over Oliver's face. "Nothing!" But Myrnin could tell he was lying. After knowing the vampire for so long he'd picked up on his tells.

"It's something for Amelie, isn't it? You don't want to sound like her errand boy." Furious fire sprang into Oliver's black eyes, and Myrnin knew he'd struck the right chord.

"My work is none of your business, Myrnin," Oliver snapped; he continued looking around. Myrnin chuckled inwardly and glanced at the silk scarf Amelie had mistakenly left the last time she'd visited. While Oliver's back was to him, Myrnin snuck the scarf off of the chair back it was slung over and stuffed it under the cushion of a seat. He was in a playful mood today and Oliver always proved to be entertaining.

Draping himself over the sofa's back Myrnin purred, "Why don't you defy Amelie just a tad and join me."

"I wouldn't sit with you if you were—"

"I've got drinks." Myrnin lifted a wine glass filled with thick, warm blood. He saw with satisfaction that Oliver's eyes wavered with hunger. Wiggling the glass temptingly, he cooed, "Come on. You know you want it."

"Only because I haven't eaten since yesterday. And I'm only having one glass," Oliver finally snapped.

"Why in the world haven't you eaten since then?"

"I got busy."

"Well, I'm nearly always busy—right now excluded—but I always find time—"

"Myrnin!" Oliver's tone rumbled with annoyance.

"Right, right." Myrnin stood from his perch and retrieved a bag of blood, emptied it into a glass, and warmed it up. Just as he was about to hand it to Oliver, Myrnin added, "I'll only give it to you if you agree to sit down and keep me company for a bit."

A sneer snaked its way into Oliver's features, but he grabbed the glass and dropped down onto the sofa. Settling beside the grumpy vampire, Myrnin didn't fight the amused grin threatening to invade his face. They sat in silence for a while, watching the overly dramatic scenes and drinking from their glasses. Several glasses later—despite Oliver's conviction to only have one—Myrnin noticed that the hours had slipped into the early morning, but Oliver didn't seem ready to move. In fact, he was practically conked out. His dark head repeatedly dipped lower and lower. Finally, he was curled against the arm of the sofa, his arm hanging over the side. Careful not to disturb him, Myrnin pried the empty glass from Oliver's fingers and set it on the end table. Gently, Myrnin covered himself and Oliver with a thick, woven blanket and settled in to watch a few more minutes of TV before heading off to bed. But those few minutes led to Myrnin's own head bobbing until he too was drifting in the calm darkness of slumber.

O.o.O

The soft click of the door to his home wrestled Myrnin out of the tangles of his sleep. Drowsily, he glanced over the sofa's back to spy Claire descending the steps. She dropped her bag in the usual place then caught sight of Myrnin. "Hey, I thought I'd stop by to see how you were," she explained, approaching the sofa.

She froze suddenly, her eyes wide and confused. Myrnin frowned and looked down at his lap where she was staring. To his surprise, there curled like a cat with his head resting on Myrnin's lap slept Oliver. He looked oddly peaceful in sleep, the muscles in his face relaxed. "Sorry. I didn't realize you had…company," Claire spluttered quietly so as not to rouse Oliver. "I'll just, um, go. See you, Myrnin."

Still half-asleep, Myrnin barely registered her words in time to wave a goodbye. When she'd gone, he looked back at Oliver. Smoothing Oliver's dark hair softly, Myrnin smiled slightly and muttered, "Sleep well, errand boy."

**Hey! I'm reminding you to review! :D Really! Reviews are great! Even if you don't review thanks for reading. :)**


	4. Silver Passion

**Hello, hello! I hope that you enjoy this. Please review, and there is another message from me at the bottom. It's kind of important…ish. Anyway—TADA!**

Scrawling the last of his notes across the parchment, Myrnin blew lightly on the drying ink and reclined to admire his work. The neat writing reminded him of the days before he'd gotten ill: the days when he spent hours poring over original works from Einstein or Ptolemy. His favorite would always have to be Fibonacci. Crossing his arms over his chest, Myrnin pondered the wondrous elements of the Fibonacci Sequence. He remembered playing with the numbers and—_CRASH!_

Shifting swiftly around in his chair Myrnin spied a shambling shadow fumbling down the steps. For a moment, the vampire speculated whether a drunk had broken the lock and wandered into his home somehow, but then a familiar groan reached his ears—although he was far more used to the groan being saturated with irritation and impatience.

It was Oliver.

And instead of irritation and impatience in his tone, there sulked anguish and helplessness. Before even his exceptionally fast mind realized it, his body had risen to help Oliver into the light so he could inspect him and determine what was wrong. Oliver, with his arm slung around Myrnin for support, reached the chair Myrnin had just vacated. Myrnin noticed he was breathing heavily despite his body not needing oxygen. But when he looked him up and down, he realized why. Vampires often resorted to the old habit of panting when they were in pain. It seemed like it helped cope with the pain—in the mind at least.

What Oliver was in agony over was a long, wide, diagonal strip extending from his bicep to his bellybutton that oozed with blood and an ugly grayish substance. Myrnin couldn't help but cringe at the sight of it. Silver.

The volatile substance was visibly eating away at Oliver's skin, and he moaned in pain. Easily hoisting Oliver into his arms, Myrnin carried him like a princess to a table which he cleared off with a sweep of his arm then carefully laid the suffering vampire on it. Oliver's black eyes were shiny with pain; his body convulsing with it as well. "Oliver, what happened to you?" Myrnin asked seriously, but it was obvious he'd get no response. Oliver was too far gone in agony. The most he could get out was a long, pitiful groan. Silently setting to work, Myrnin cleaned the wound of the silver. As he cut the remainder of Oliver's shirt off, he noticed that beneath the burns from the silver, a deep cut had been sliced down Oliver's chest.

Once the silver was washed out, the convulsions quieted, and he entered a half-conscious state. To replace the blood Oliver had lost, Myrnin slapped him awake enough to get him to sip from a cup. "So would you like to explain?" Myrnin sighed as he placed the cup on a table and sat back in his seat to gaze expectantly at Oliver.

The injured vampire was hardly able to keep his eyes open, but he focused on Myrnin. Forcing his voice to work, he mumbled, "Don't know. Took me by surprise."

"Really? I didn't think it was possible for the superhero Oliver to be surprised, except by me, of course." Apparently, Oliver still had enough energy to conjure a killer glare. His cold eyes narrowed, making Myrnin chuckle. "Well, then perhaps I should investigate this." He started to get up, but when he looked back at the wound across Oliver's torso, he knew he couldn't leave him. Even vampires needed looking after from time to time, even heartless ones like Oliver. So Myrnin settled back down and thoughtfully brought his fingers to his lips. The silence extended for several minutes before Oliver rasped,

"Are you just going to keep staring at me like that?"

"Probably."

"Well, stop."

"Why?" Smirking mischievously, Myrnin's tone deepened provocatively. "Am I making you uncomfortable? Does my gaze burn your skin?"

Oliver sneered weakly at Myrnin. "Yes."

His brow rising, Myrnin playfully pounced onto the table, his feet placed on either side of Oliver. Bending closer, Myrnin purred, "How about now?"

Suddenly sliding his fangs down, Oliver hissed at Myrnin, "Get away from me, you cretin!"

Thudding down to his knees, Myrnin grinned darkly. "Oh, come now. It's just a little joke. You'd never really react to me," he leaned down to Oliver's ear, "a man."

Moving faster than even Myrnin could react to, Oliver tried pushing the other vampire off of himself, but in his condition, the strength behind the attack was far less than usual. All he ended up doing was causing the table to topple over. The two rolled together, unable to fight the sudden momentum, until Myrnin shoved himself up. "Are you alright?" he asked, inspecting Oliver's still healing chest wound.

"No, I'm not alright, you dimwit! You've split the skin again. Now I'm losing more blood." He was right. A smear of red had cut across his pectoral, and a fat trickle was now running down his stomach to soak his pants. "And you've ruined my pants."

For a moment, Myrnin almost seemed speechless, but then he regained his wit. "Well, at least they're black. Blood stains won't show up as prominently. Now, let me fix this…" He reached to unbutton the top of Oliver's jeans, but Oliver's hand flashed to grip his.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

"Oh, please. We're both men."

"I can do it myself!"

Myrnin raised his hands in surrender then pushed himself to his feet. "Alright, alright. Can I just turn my head, or would you like for me to leave the room entirely? Or better yet should I simply wait out in the alleyway while you remove your pants."

"Oh, shut up! I just don't need you to undress me." In a rage, Oliver stood—fighting the dizziness that came over him. But soon, it was too much, and he stumbled. Myrnin was there before Oliver realized he'd moved.

"You see? You're not strong enough yet. How about a compromise? You sit down, take these off, then lie back and I'll fix the cut. But if it opens any wider, I'm not going to let you move at all for a while."

Oliver thought for a moment. "Fine."

Myrnin set the table back on its feet and helped Oliver up onto it. Then he busied himself with preparing the necessary instruments to fix the injury. While he did that, Oliver fought with the slice down the upper half of his body as it threatened to widen as he stripped off his jeans. Finally, he kicked the blood-soaked pants to the floor and worked determinedly to keep his boxers blood-free.

When Myrnin turned around, Oliver felt a foolish wave of self-consciousness. It had been a very long time since so much of his skin had been exposed to a fellow man; women were another story but still. Although Myrnin's gaze appeared to be completely focused on the matter at hand, Oliver still felt embarrassed. He was grateful for having no heartbeat. He was sure that if he'd had one it would be racing and his blood would be rushing into his cheeks.

What he didn't know was that Myrnin could tell anyway. He could sense Oliver's reaction to his touch. As he gently wiped away the dried blood from Oliver's skin, Myrnin realized how beautiful it was. Amelie was known for her beauty, but hers was obvious. Oliver didn't have a very straightforward kind of attractiveness, but now Myrnin saw it: the trim features of his face, the hard jut of his chin, the soft broad shoulders, the smoothness of his muscles. Glancing at Oliver's face, he realized that the other vampire was avoiding his gaze, looking anywhere but at him. Without consciously making the decision to do it, Myrnin's hand left the wet rag behind and began tracing the soft lines of his pectoral muscles, then his biceps. Oliver's eyelids fluttered closed. His hand came up to cover Myrnin's as it traveled over his skin. As if in a dream, Myrnin lowered his face to Oliver's and cupped his hand on his face to direct it toward him. The second just before their lips met, Oliver cracked open his eyes slightly and seemed to realize for the first time that it was Myrnin touching him. He gave a single, feeble push against Myrnin, but Myrnin was too far gone. And when their lips touched, Oliver forgot all about it.

He tangled his fingers in Myrnin's curly hair, and Myrnin chuckled into the kiss before returning his enthusiasm with a strong grip on his other hand. The moment he pulled away, Myrnin wondered if that would ever happen again. When he looked at Oliver's heated expression and glassy eyes and begging lips, he knew it would.

**Okay! So, I am thinking that this one-shot will turn out to be several chapters since it's a bit long to be just one. Tell me if you would like more of this one! :) Reviews, reviews! They're great! ;)**


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